Choices
by InsaniumArtisan
Summary: He had no idea one fate-filled night would lead to such an interesting Ten One A quirky And a meeting that would tie together crimson strings previously ((PruCan - Nyo!Prussia, Human!AU))
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Choices_

_Fandom: Hetalia_

_Summary: He had no idea one fate-filled night would lead to such an interesting encounter. Ten beers. One challenge. A quirky Prussian. And a meeting that would tie together crimson strings previously undiscovered._

_Pairing: PruCan - Nyo!Prussia, Human!AU_

_Genre: Romance/Humor_

* * *

"L-Look, Alfred, I don't think-"

"C'mon, bro! This is the first time I've managed to convince you to hang out with me and my bros-"

"You dumped a bucket of ice water on my head and threatened to burn my midterm essay for Physics..."

"Whatever! Anyway, dude, there's like, really, really hot chicks there! Ya know hot, right? They're, like, _Mega_-Hot. Like, Lois Lane hot."

"Like...Ellen Page?"

"Totally! Wait...who?"

"Nevermind...", it wasn't his brother's fault for his lack of knowledge about Canadian actresses...or Canadian culture as a whole. But still, it would have been nice if Matthew could find at least one thing they both could talk about.

Other than baseball. That never ended well for him. Someone dares even bring up the term, "bat", and Alfred's challenger switch flips on. In seconds the poor quieter of the two would find himself planted with a catcher's mitt, a four-inch ball of leather buried nearly two-inches into his face.

It hurt like hell, and despite how his brother laughed like it was nothing, he knew good and well the throws were intentionally aimed for his unguarded face.

The two college-juniors walked side-by-side, the more outgoing of the two striding with his head held high, whilst the other kept his own expression drawn to the ground. People that passed by gave Alfred a few perturbed glances, most likely thrown by the...eccentric outfit he wore. Superhero merchandise was one of his sibling's most liked of things, and apparently the party he was dragging Matt to featured a theme of such persuasion.

However, the only known hero that Matt could recall that was related to his home-country-not that it mattered, he just thought it'd be a nice touch-was Wolverine. And tried as he had, he'd been completely unable to get his hands on such a costume portraying the X-Men attendee. Online prices were too high, costume shops never had them in his size, and he didn't dare even think about making it by hand. The last time his hands were caught holding a needle and thread, he had ended up using them to stitch up the scars he'd gained from the tormenting round of bullying he'd received.

By Alfred. And his friends.

A sigh left his lips, the incessant chatter Al spouted drowned to naught in his brother's ears. Sometimes he wondered why he even allowed Al to push him around like he did. He knew his sibling cared for him, at least, he hoped he did, but sometimes...Damn.

It was just so hard to put up with it.

Minute after minute passed. Or were they seconds? It was so hard to keep up with the depth perception that came with tracking time. Sidled into his own wavelength, tucked into the invisible world in his mind, Matt relented from his attempts to concede reality, and just began to think.

Where was he even going from here? A junior in college, and yet his Major was still...well, he'd picked one out, but did he really want to pursue it? Professionally? Science was fun. Math, too. But...being a physicist, that would prove difficult. Classes were hard enough, and topped on that, he was under constant pressure to find a girlfriend. Once again, by his brother.

The free way Alfred seemed to pass through women always had managed to astound Matt. Girl after girl after girl. Hell, he'd even heard tell that a few teachers had been victim of Alfred's womanizing ways.

Life. Academics. Socializing...Wait, how much time had passed again? Was someone calling him? It was dull, but the soft echo that poked at the recesses of his brain, the peripheral vision of his reality perception, swept the thoughts that entangled the zoned-out male as harshly as the ice down his pants had that morning.

"...de. Dude. _Dude_!" A pair of snapping fingers broke the spell that enraptured Matthew, and the grinning face that greeted him gave the final tug that landed his wandering mind firmly back into his body. Alfred grasped the other's arm, and his beam only grew.

"We're here, dude! Tuck in your shirt, and get those bangs outta your eyes, bro, we've got a party to crash!"

Technically, they were invited, so it wasn't exactly crashing...oh, whatever.

* * *

The music was unbelievably loud.

The time the duo entered the threshold of the building, more or less a run-down shack than anything else, the loud riff of an electric guitar threatened to blast what was left of Matt's hearing. The song held no designated beat, a compilation of highs, lows, and uneven taps of a bass in the background. Even so, the "dancefloor" was packed like a sardine can, partygoers of nearly unbelievable ages all crammed into one huge wiggling mass of dancers, illuminated only by the seizure-inducing lights of an attempted "rave" setting.

He had never seen so many Supermen, Batmen, and Wolverines in one place. With this many in tow, his brother's so-called "most epic costume of all", which was just an attempt at a decked-out Captain America outfit, seemed completely shadowed by the length of detail some of these people had put into their costumes.

Aside from the repititive sights of the superheroes, there was a much less extravagant, small array of super heroines around as well. What Alfred dared to call "Lois Lane" hot turned out to be a few select girls dressed as slightly oversized Wonder Women, Cat Women, and even a few Harley Quinns. There were a few attractive girls here and there, but they mostly hung in the more shadowed spots of the tiny room, already taken by the obviously intoxicated males that wafted around them like moths drawn to a bug-zapper.

"Al, are you sure...?" He started, but trailed off when he realized his star-spangled sibling was no longer beside him, but had joined the mass in the center of the party. Alfred jumped up and down, waving his shield as he danced, and from where he stood he could see the looks he was getting weren't exactly ones of awe. Well, they _were_ of awe...but not the good kind.

Abandoned to find his own spot amidst the chaos, the shy male slipped unseen, or at least, unnoticed through the crowd, and planned to plant himself into the nearest empty booth. It was an unlucky coincidence he'd found one, as a second later another large group of teenagers piled through the doorway he'd been standing in, wildly darting to and for before the supposed leader of the herd found a suitable spot, the only available table that Matt had just planned to sit at. In a split second they all filled the chairs, whooping and laughing raucously in expense at the others around them.

Not to say they were bad kids. He didn't even know them. For all he knew, they could've been discussing economic decline and it's result on future generations. But they probably weren't.

He sighed and glanced around. Through the jungle of writhing bodies no available seats could be seen. The flickering lights clashed with the plethora of neon glow sticks that surrounded the expanse of the shacks interior. Blinding lights, sweaty people, deafening music. Was this really what a party was supposed to be like? _Jeez_...Matt remembered when parties had a sense of class, sophistication-he was going to stop right there. He sounded like his older half-brother, Arthur.

Alfred was right, he did need to get out more often.

_"Speak of the Devil...,_" he mumbled softly, hardly attempting to hold in his irritation as the messy-haired, blonde brother he was just mentally addressing came walking over, a giggling, tipsy looking brunette strung across his arm. Al had lipstick smeared unceremoniously across his mouth and neckline, and the nauseating scent of alcohol made Matt's stomach turn.

"Yo..._dude_!" The drunken Al said, blinking hazily as if he had temporarily forgotten who he was addressing. "You've gotta...like, meet these chicks I just met! They're, like, the hottest chicks in here yet! Dude, that rhymed!"

The unnamed girl hanging on his shield tittered. "You're a poet. That's _sooo_ cool!"

The gagging sensation that broiled in Matt's stomach threatened to flood into his mouth, but he choked it down. "Uh...no thanks, Al. I'll pass."

"What?" Alfred blinked again, "C'mon, man! They're as hot as, you know that girl you went out with? The one you were talking about earlier...somethin' Page..."

"She's an actress, Al."

"No way! You went out with an actress?!"

"Cool," the Giggler responded, cutting her eyes to him in a not-so subtle way. Her voice dropped a bit as she spoke, and the hidden message in her words was as clear as the scent of tequila on her breath. "Could you, like, introduce me to any famous people? I'd do _anything_ to meet someone famous!"

Uncomfortable under the duress of her intensely hazy stare, Matt simply responded to Alfred in what he hoped was a calm enough voice. "Look, Alfred, I came out here to spend time with you, not have you run off and ditch me-again."

"Bro, you're seriously a buzzkill, you know that? Always whinin' and..._stuff_. All you even do is read those...things," a squint, "the...the...book...things. You're the one who never wants to have any fun."

As if to prove his point, Al began poking Matt's shoulder, his words becoming more slurred with each second that passed, "I-I bet-! I bet you couldn't even drink ten whole beers! _Ten whole beers!"_

What? Was he..._actually_ trying to challenge him? To a drinking match?

It wasn't like Matt was personally a completely sober person, he'd had plenty of wine before...but beer? _Ten_ beers? That was ridiculous! Still, he had to admit-as much as he didn't want to-Sloppy Captain America had a point. When was the last time he'd ever really cut loose? He couldn't remember. All he did know was that, whatever would come of this, he was going to prove his brother wrong. For once, he was going to be _right_.

"Alright, Al." He spoke, brushing off his brother's prodding hand, "I accept your challenge."

The same nausea from before slowly began to crawl back up his throat. He could _not_ do this. It was ridiculous. He couldn't possibly-

No...yes he could. After all, it was just ten...right?

* * *

The first beer was perfectly fine.

It ran down his throat with the familiar burning bitterness that all alcoholic beverages had. Nothing odd about it. And then came number two. The same, but he felt a bit light from all the chugging at once.

Three, four, and five were greeted with loud whoops of applause from the evergrowing crowd, and through the haze that was beginning to cloud his mind, Matt could see Alfred smirking in a playful way.

"Five more, bro!" He teased, cracking the tab of his next drink.

The Canadian nodded, already feeling weary, and as his hand wrapped around the aluminum can, his stomach lurched. Bile slid up his throat in an agonizingly slow motion, and the swallow that pushed it back down carried with it the next foamy slurp of his beer.

Needless to say, it didn't help much.

Seven through nine were just as hard, each tiny sip becoming harder and harder to manage through the odd way the world suddenly seemed to be turning. Was it just him, or had everyone in here just turned into giant blobs of undefinable color splotches? It was like looking through a fogged-up pair of goggles, only with motion sickness.

The music was louder than ever, pounding mercilessly in the drunken college student's ears like an inescapable gunshot to the drums in his head. That, coupled with the cheers and yells from the surrounding people...were they people? Was he a people? A...yeah, yeah, a people was a thing. He guessed...

Whatever they were...was...were, it was...hurt. His head. Really, really hurt. And everything was so loud. It was so...damn _loud_.

A cylinder in his hand. A mash of blue, white, and red topped with yellow leaning unceremoniously close to his face. Words...he thought. A single sentence, all rushed into a jumble of noise.

"_One_ more, Mattie! You've got this, dude!"

* * *

The last beer was like a punch in the gut.

The haze-ridden world twisted and flipped in the intoxicated boy's eyesight, and he struggled to swallow. Half the can was left. That was it. He just needed two more chugs...one more. A sip...

His stomach gurgled. Bile, hot and putrid, rushed into his throat. Sickened and weak, Matt turned, tossed the half-filled can away, and promptly allowed his writhing organs to exit themselves of all alcohol. The sour-bitter taste of vomit stained his mouth, and he coughed.

All around, the disgusted squeals of the onlooking audience melted away into jeers of his failure. He'd lost the bet, apparently.

"Ah, well." A large force slammed into his back like a battering ram, knocking the Canadian over a fraction, while the distorted voice continued its nearly incomprehensible speech. "Looks like you lost, bro! That means the penalty's up to me, eh?"

"Still," the blob that was Alfred looped his arm loosely around his sibling's neck, helping not to assuage the churning waves rolling around the loser's insides, "I never expected you to _not_ be a lightweight! You were _so close_, too! Too bad, but now it's time for your punishment."

Peering up through teary eyes, Matt but down on the inside of his mouth. Alfred's blurry smile was utterly Cheshire-like, and held pretense to something he knew he was going to regret.

_Damn_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I was hoping to make this a full one-shot, as it was requested some four weeks ago, but with such a busy schedule, I've hardly had time to write. So I'll have to split it into sections. This may end up with three to four sections, so I suppose it's now classified as a "short story", since I still plan on making it somewhat close to eight-thousand words, or so.**

**Sorry,**

**- I.A.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Title: Choices_

_Fandom: Hetalia_

_Summary: He had no idea one fate-filled night would lead to such an interesting encounter. Ten beers. One challenge. A quirky Prussian. And a meeting that would tie together crimson strings previously undiscovered._

_Pairing: PruCan - Nyo!Prussia, Human!AU_

_Genre: Tragedy/Hurt-Comfort_

* * *

By the time he realized exactly where they were headed, it was too late.

Ten beers, even if they were pretty much gone, had left such a chaotic aftermath tormenting his innards that Matt felt as if he were going to puke...for the fifth time that night. And the motion of Al's high-speed daredevil driving wasn't any help with his predicament.

It was his brother's fault for his ending up like this! The only reason he'd gone through with that damn dare was to fprove something to Alfred! And where had it gotten him? Drunk as...drunker than..._really, really_ drunk.

The girl perched in the seat next to his sibling's squealed her enjoyment as the car swerved dangerously around a curve, while the queasy male in the back clutched his stomach to keep it from leaping into his throat. "C-Could you...shlow down? Jussssh, jush a little? Ple-," another curve, and his free hand clapped over his mouth.

Apparently his stomach had decided to take the scenic route straight to his mouth, and the sour bile that piled against his tongue weighed on his words like molasses.

"_Damn you..."_

"It's your own fault, dude!" Al cackled, casting his startlingly pale brother a sharp glance in the dashboard mirror. "I knew you didn't have it in you to be able to drink 'em all! I just expected you to chicken out! But whaddya know-you went for it! And you know what...?"

Grinning, he tilted his head fully back to cast his smile towards Matt, stupidly taking his eyes off the road, "-it was _awesome_!"

"Al?" The girl next to him squeaked fearfully, nudging at his shoulder, "Al, I think you should-"

"Hold on, babe, I'm tryin to tell my best bro somethin' important here!" Irritated, he swatted her pestering hand away, and looked back again, once more looking away, "Look, Matt, I know I've always been hard on ya', but dude, you know..."

"Al-!" Her voice was higher in pitch now, more frantic. Matt weakly tilted his head to see what she was screeching about, and regretted the decision almost immediately.

The car was hurtling towards the side of interstate, drifting into a head-on path with the vehicle barreling towards them from the opposite direction. Even if the brakes stopped them now, there was no telling what would happen.

_"...but dude, you know..."_

_"ALFRED, THE CAR-!"_

Crash_._

* * *

"You're an idiot."

The words he spoke were self-damning. The only thing that matched it in terms of agony was the deafening silence that followed.

How could his brother speak back to him anyway? No words could ever hope to penetrate that four-inch thick metal slab that encased his body. Matthew grit his teeth, staring down at the coffin in anger and disgust.

"You...damn fool. You should have _known better! Damn it!_" He was yelling now, the last few flashes of his memories of his brother slipping away. He and Alfred as children, playing tag. Making snowmen. Playing a less-violent game of catch.

Pre-teens. Matthew hiding while Alfred confronted his sibling's bullies. Shaking as he tried to introduce him to group after group of girls, and even a few attempts at guys. Shock as he was purposely blamed for every little mistake. Relief and happiness as Alfred made up for them in apologies and trips to the candy store.

Teens. Girlsfriends. Groups. Separating into their own places. Going to the same college. The party. The booze. The car. The crash. The hospital. Lying in the metal bed, watching his brother bleed out next to him.

The empty ring of the heart monitor. The long, drawn out beep. The doctors rushing in. Him, screaming at Alfred. Here. Crying.

"_Damn it_," he snarled between choked out sobs. The girl, who'd been at the party with them, who Matthew was just learning was Alfred's girlfriend, a girl named Laurie who he'd been going out with for four frickin years, wailed beside him.

_"It's your fault."_

But he didn't put his arm around her. What was the point? It wouldn't ease the pain.

_"It's your fault."_

And as they began to lower the casket, he realized nothing would.

_"It's my fault."_

* * *

Weeks had passed from that day.

Alone, staring with half-empty eyes into a jet-black mug of coffee, sat a blonde-haired man. The leather bomber jacket he wore clashed with his thin-rimmed glasses, but somehow, the pair seemed to work.

A cowlick stood up from his head, the lone lock of blonde the most noticeable trait about him.

He seemed interested in something, not in the drink, but beyond it, like there was something sitting at the bottom of his cup that he just couldn't quite make out. But he never reached for it, he just...stared.

From across the café, a curious person kept their gaze on his movements. At times his hand would twitch. His leg would kick. He'd bite his lip, push the cup around, twirl it. Pause, twitch, and repeat. It was an odd, discombobulated pattern, but it enthralled the observer.

Minute after minute passed. People entered, left, entered again because they forgot something. A few women tried to approach him. He made no move to even hardly glance up, and after enough time, they all gave up and left. A waitress came over and asked if he was okay.

He grunted in affirmation, and she left.

The singular noise was all it took. Piqued to the max, the watching eyes finally made their move.

Julchen stood up, placed her empty mug on the front countertop, and sat next to him. The Mystery Man.

He'd gone through this same ritual for an entire week. She hadn't even noticed him before, until she realized once that his eyes had changed color. It was just from afar, but she'd sworn, to the end of her wits, that the current baby blue had flashed something else. She couldn't disinter what it was, but it wasn't the same.

The entire week she'd kept an eye on him, starting just after that incident. Her observations felt borderline stalker is at times, but they were necessary, to calm the curious cat that lurked within her knowledge-seeking mind.

"Hey." One word, spoken, directed to him. He didn't look up, as expected.

"Nice place, isn't it?" Nothing. His hand twitched.

"I really like it here. It's peaceful, quiet," a joke on his stoicness, but she roused no reaction. Disappointed, Julchen continued on, "but sometimes the crowds can be so very noisy. It's rather vulgar, to be stuck in such a center of brouhaha."

Her largesse words seemed to spark something, as his eyes flicked her way, before settling back on the abyss within their owner's cup.

Satisfied that she'd gotten something, she decided to step it up a bit. "But within all of this madness, all you need do is order one of the shop's finest imports. Wine, beer, or coffee, it's all the same. You'll feel lighter, instantly. But from the way you're downing that drink, I bet you feel like your on Cloud Nine right now."

Another joke. Something about the clouds, or maybe the drinks, caught his attention again, and he acted so unaccordingly to what she'd seen for so long, that the nosy girl nearly fell out of her chair.

He spoke.

Directly to her, his words were laced with an exhausted malice that she didn't quite understand._ "What do you want?"_

It took a moment to get over the fact that his voice sounded like he'd been eating gravel for breakfast, causing the flustered responder to sputter as she replied. "I-oh, uh, I just wanted to talk."

_"Why?"_

"What?" She blinked in surprise, feeling like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. He was fully facing her now, and just above the patchy scruff that covered his chin like a blanket, the two blue orbs struck lightning through her.

She was a little scared, to be honest.

"_Why_ do _you_ want to talk to _me_?" The blue intensified, drawing her in. A waterfall. A river. But there was something else. Something underneath? It might have been just her suspicion, but...it felt like...there was someone else.

"I-I...don't really know," she admitted, feeling defeated.

He snorted in derision. "Make a reason, _then_ come see me."

The conversation ended with his eyes back on his cup, and a very appalled Julchen gaping in her place. How _rude_ could a guy get?

Then again, she felt like she was intruding a little...

No. No she was not. He wasn't doing anything important, unless he was trying to discover how to make coffee turn into wine. If he wanted that, he could have just asked for a shot of liquor to add to the caffeinated drink.

"Look!" She snapped, baring her teeth in a very unladylike way. "I just came over here to say hi. You looked lonely, and I thought it'd be nice to introduce myself! But then you had to act like an _ass_, so guess what ? No introductions for you, sir! _None! _So there! I hope you're happy!"

A beat passed by. Two. Three.

Through the pounding of her own humiliated heartbeat, another sound cut through. Chuckling.

He was laughing at her.

"H-Hey!" She yelped, feeling her face begin to flush. "Wha-what're you laughing for?!"

"I've-I've never...," he choked out, grasping the mug firmly in his hands, as if it were an anchor, "Had someone jus-just _lash out_ at me like that!"

A squeaky noise escaped her throat as he suddenly clapped a gloved hand on her shoulder, shadow-rimmed eyes crinkling up at the edges as he smiled. "You're alright. What's your name, lady?"

At the question, her mouth ran dry, "I...I'm-Julchen!" Frenetically, she swatted blindly at her coat-jacket, trying desperately to rid her hands of nonexisting sweat. "Julchen Beilschmidt!"

The Mystery Man tipped an imaginary hat in her directions, his smile dipping a little as he spoke the one thing she never expected to learn. His name.

"My name's Alfred Jones."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This took much longer to write than expected.**

**Part two. Yay.**

**If you guys don't get what's going on, Mattie's pretending to be Alfred. Cause ghilt causes cray-cray stuff.**

**Yeah.**

**Oh, and Julchen's awesome. Nuff said.**

**Also, I'll be changing the genre with each chapter. Not in the lookup section, but in the top description. Cause each part's gonna have a different element to it. So yeah.**

**Peace,**

**- InsaniumArtisan**


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